Love in the Underground Garage
by Tippy.LaRoux
Summary: It’s 1986, and Mad-Eye Moody is in a slump. The life of an Auror just isn’t that exciting anymore. What happens when he takes a chance and walks through a door with ‘The Garage’ spray painted across it?


Houses Challenge - Hufflepuff Year 2  
wc excluding a/n: 2358

Prompt set:  
List 1- 8. [Trope] ... And they lived happily ever after  
List 2- 8. [Character] Mad-eye Moody  
List 3- 9. [Action] Learning to play the drums

Hogwarts Challenges and Assignments : Ravenclaw  
Photography: Photography Techniques  
Task 3: Write about being rewarded for taking a risk.

Character Appreciation - Percy #14 - [trait] Studious

Showtime- Book of Mormon #12 - Baptizm - Doing something for the first time

Amber's Attic - General #1 - Write about someone making a comittment

Lyric Alley - #16 - I'm marching to the beat I drum

Bex's Bezor - #3 - Manny - Write about an unlikely friendship

Em's Emprorium #6 - Lin - Gender non-binary (Sammy)

* * *

 _Present_

The war ended five years ago when He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named was miraculously vanquished by a fifteen-month old. After all the battles, the spies that infiltrated the Death Eater's inner circle, it came down to a boy who wouldn't ever remember it.

"Hey, Mad-Eye, how was your weekend?" Rufus Scrimgeour asked, as Alastor 'Mad-Eye'

Moody made his way past the desks crammed into the Auror Office.

"Ugh, you know, Rufus, another two days that I got to go up to the cabin. I found a new set of wards that took me four hours to take down after I put them up. I relaxed a bit; it was pretty much the same as every other weekend." Moody answered as he tossed his cloak over the back of his wooden chair. He glanced at the few interoffice memos flitting around, looking for anything pressing.

After seeing nothing that couldn't wait, he grabbed the chipped 'I assert our inalienable right to party,' mug everyone got as holiday gift a few years ago and made his way over to the most popular corner of the office. The corner that housed an intricate coffee maker; caffeine was a staple in the diet of any Auror worth his salt. The large copper vessel stood two meters high and had an astounding display of buttons, levers and knobs from top to bottom. The warm steam pouring out with each cup filled the office with a smell that, combined with everything else, always reminded him of work; coffee, parchment, bergamot, and leather.

Rufus followed behind Moody, his personal favorite, 'I have a wand, and I know how to use it,' mug in hand. "So, you and Isador have any grand adventures this past weekend?" Pushing the buttons he knew would result in the perfect Imperial French Press, black, for him, and a Double Shot Cafe Mocha for Rufus, Mad-Eye looked over to his friend as they waited for their coffee.

"Her sister was in town, so of course we had to spend an inordinate amount of time with her and the little rugrats." The look that passed over his co-workers face helped reinforce his own belief that children were not the precious creatures their parents believed them to be. Much like dental work, they were to be endured, and if you were vigilant in your preparations, it would only need to be for a short time twice a year.

Walking back to their desks, the two Aurors fell into a companionable silence. They had been working together for nearly twenty years; there was not much that they didn't already know about each other. The silence was easy and welcomed from time to time.

"So, what's on the docket today, old man?" Rufus asked his partner.

"Just following up on a few citations that were issued last month. Need to make sure Borgin has not resumed selling potions to minors, and since we will already be there, we could always pop into a few shops in Knockturn Alley. If nothing else, it'll fill up some time." Mad-Eye was reading from the parchment he always kept on his desk, a neverending list of what needed to be done.

"That'll take us up to lunch. After that, do you want to go down to the range and get some practice in? We haven't dueled in a while; I'm afraid I'm getting a bit rusty." Rufus asked, it was something they did religiously during the war, but it didn't seem as important to some to keep those skills strong in time of peace. Mad-Eye, however, did not subscribe to that belief, but knowing his friend could do with some brushing up, agreed to the exercise.

The day wore on, like every other day it seemed, until at five in the afternoon he waited in line at the apparation point to return to the world outside work. Mondays were his favorite days, it felt like the official start to a new week, a new chance to get things right. It was also the day he got to see his drum teacher, Sammy.

Before stepping out onto the Muggle street, Mad-Eye had taken careful steps to blend in. His cloak was transfigured into a worn black leather moto, his trousers into faded jeans, and disillusioned his magic eye to appear as a standard issue eye patch. Walking down to Piccadilly Circus, he faded into the crowd. But his magic eye was swiveling left to right; front to back, keeping watch for anything out of the ordinary.

There was no sign over the door, just white words spray painted across the battleship grey solid metal door that read "The Garage." Walking into the dark hallway, and down the narrow staircase, Mad-Eye was once again thankful for the curse hurled at him by Dolohov the last months of the war. If it weren't for the curse, he wouldn't have needed the magic eye that allowed him to see around every corner, to know what was behind almost every door, and to see better in the dark. Walking down the stairs for the twentieth, he thought to himself again how bloody dangerous these stairs were.

 _19 weeks earlier_

He had walked into the store for the first time and was in awe at the sheer number of items that were crammed inside the bright space without the use of magic. The stairs opened at the bottom to a huge room, every nook and cranny was jammed with musical instruments and other paraphernalia. The guitars all lined up along the back wall were a sight to behold; shiny and bold colors, matte black, rounded bottoms, some were even "V" shaped. One even had a Union Jack painted on it; most of them had chrome fittings that glinted under the track lights. Those were intimidating with so much going on, the strings, knobs, and bands of metal all down the neck. Looking around, something had caught his eye, a stack of what looked like practice wands. Walking over and running his fingers over them he began picking them up, one by one, until he found one that had the same weight and balance as his wand tucked securely up his sleeve.

"Sixteen inch flame hardened hickory, with a four inch taper, that's my favorite one, too." Mad-Eye turned to look behind him and stared into dark brown eyes. "It just feels right, you know? Do you play?" He was almost taken off guard by the dark eyeliner, and short hair dyed acid green. But then, he reminded himself, he was in Muggle London, and not the Financial District. This was the part of town where people with acid green hair outnumber those with brown hair two-to-one.

"Um, no. I was just looking around. Had a bit of time to kill after work, and curiosity got the best of me. I needed to check out this underground 'garage' that I kept walking by." He was absentmindedly flicking the drumstick with his fingers. It really did have the same weight and feel as his wand.

"Are you sure you don't play? You've got all the tells of a closet drummer. I can see your fingers twitching, just begging to flip the stick. Come on, just do it, give in to your basic instincts." Mad-Eye gave the person a glare that would scare away the fircest fire crab. However, in this case, it resulted in a giggle. Rolling his eye, he lazily spun the stick around his index finger, flipped it up and let it fall right into his hand.

"Okay, either you are pulling my leg, or you were born to be a drummer and never knew it. Which is it?"

"I've never played a day in my life. Seems interesting, though. Might be fun to learn."

"Well, this must be your lucky day. I happen to be an excellent teacher, and I am free for the next thirty minutes. Want a free spin around the heads?" Considering his big plan for the night was to go home and cook himself some dinner, he thought, what could it hurt? The work of an Auror during peacetime leaves much to be desired. It is all paperwork and meetings. If footballers take ballet to improve flexibility, why wouldn't playing drums help improve an Auror's dexterity?

"Sure, why not. The name is Moody," they shook hands, and Moody was led down a small corridor lit up by the bright green hair.

"Hmm, Moody you say, how fitting," the dark rimmed eyes swung back in his direction, sizing him up. "Well, I'm Sammy, and if you'll join me in my ' _Beat Laboratory_ ' I can see what you got."

Once they were settled in the room with Moody on the swivel stool and Sammy standing behind him, they began.

"The first thing to learn is the groove. Kick the pedal for the bass drum, there, yup. Now for the snare, the white one there to your right, but you cross your arms, and hit it with your left, like that.

"Great, now for the next beat, you kick the bass drum again, but this time you hit the high hat, the brass clapping symbols with your right stick. Yup, your arms stay crossed like that throughout this whole exercise."

"Like this?"

"Perfect! See, I told you, you were a natural," the smile that lit up Sammy's face was breathtaking, and Moody let out the breath he didn't know he was holding.

It was the best half-hour Mad-Eye had spent in a long time. He forgot how great it was to learn something new. Sammy was so interesting, slumming around in a van for a few years playing gigs up and down the coast. Finally, Sammy bought this shop with a bandmate so they could put down roots, but still be immersed in the music they loved.

"Come back, same time next week, yeah? And I'll show you some more. Leave your number, but keep the sticks, they're on the house. I put a tracker in there, so I'll be able to find you whenever I want." Sammy winked over in Mad-Eye's direction. He swiveled his magic eye down to the wooden sticks in his hand, going over them as thoroughly as he could in a couple seconds.

He did what Sammy asked, and left his number at the desk, and was penciled in for the following Monday at 7:00 PM. Luckily, he was an Auror, and they had a phone installed in their department during the war for emergencies. Well, being that it was mostly used to order pizzas from the joint around the corner, he was fairly certain this wasn't crossing the line.

As for the drumsticks, there didn't seem to be anything amiss, but he made sure to run a full scan when he got back to his flat. After finding nothing, he pulled out the practice pad he'd picked up at Sammy's suggestion and began tapping the sticks along to the beat in his head. He did not want to go into next week's lesson unprepared.

 _Present_

"Hey, Moody, how was your weekend?" his drum teacher asked from under bright orange fringe.

"Hi Sammy, mine was good. Nice and relaxing, I got back up to the cabin, did some fishing and reading. Nothing too crazy. Oh, and of course I practiced."

"I'm sure you did, I wish all my students practiced like you." Sammy smiled down at Moody. "So, the cabin again? It sounds beautiful. An escape from the rat race; a time to unplug, unwind, and just relax." Sammy was talking again with that far away look. Having seen it more than a few times, Mad-Eye decided to give it a go again.

"I'm headed up again this weekend, you should come. Even if you don't want to stay overnight, it's super quick to get to. I could pick you up here and we'd be there before you know it." Moody enjoyed spending time with the absolutely unique person he considered more friend than teacher. They had done coffee, and even drinks a few times after practice. They never seemed to run out of things to say. It was just easy to be with Sammy.

"You know what, Alaster, I think I will take you up on that offer. This weekend is free. To be honest, I need to get out of the city, and there is no one I'd rather escape with than you." Sammy looked wistfully at Mad-Eye, and as they begun practice, he had a hard time staying on beat with the fast paced double paradiddle.

But, that was okay. Sammy was coming up. They could read books, or fish. He had started talking about the magic a bit a few coffees ago, and that was going unexpectedly smooth. Sammy was one of those special people who didn't look at the world through prejudiced lenses. Sammy wasn't a black or white type of person, so it wasn't surprising when Mad-Eye's declaration was met with questions; 'what kind of jobs are there,' and 'do you really have a magic wand?!' instead of an instantaneous need for proof, or worse, a reaction so bad he would have had to use an _Obliviate_ in Muggle London.

This was perfect. He couldn't ask for more. Although it had taken some time to find a groove to fill his time with things that made him happy, Mad-eye could admit to himself finally. He was happy, for the first time, maybe ever. His life had purpose, he was comfortable in his job, he had things outside of work that filled his cup.

 _19 months later_

Sammy was sitting on the front porch of the cabin that was _theirs_. Nothing was official; neither Muggle nor wizard were interested in labeling anything. But, they spent most weekends together after that first one; and just last week they decided to move-in together. It took a while, but they eventually decided on Sammy's flat, but also Moody's cabin.

It was perfect. They were both incredibly happy, and neither could imagine their life's without the other. And, for as long as they could, they lived happily ever after.


End file.
